M E L I T A
The honeybee girl had expected the luxere to grab hold of the apple and revere Rexanna in the same measure. The following motions and movements surprised her, made her gasp, brows furrowing, because she couldn’t comprehend why they balked and shied away. Rexanna was kind, generous, and compassionate; hadn’t given a single folly or care when Melita had dropped in on her throughout numerous occasions. She was a reflection of a saint, seemingly – beautiful, wholesome, always eager to help. She was already far better than Melita, who wore her savagery and untamed notions on her sleeve, in her movements, in her motives. Rexanna had taught her how to cook a pumpkin, how to tend to these mystical beasts, and the luxere seemed to scoff, leery and concerned. It was as if a hold of trepidation pervaded through them, and while Melita continued to hold out apple after apple for their waiting mouths, she turned her head back to the other woman. “I don’t understand…”
They’d sung. They’d hummed. They’d proffered food. What else did the glowing deer require? Melita thought about retreating back further and having Rexanna take center stage, so their attention would have to linger solely on her. Even Fangorn seemed mystified, tilting his head back and forth, but proffering nothing either, an explanation completely unknown and foreign. Her smile fell a little, less ebullient and more apprehensive, pondering the further depths of enigmas and quandaries surrounding this land; and if she’d always be so eternally puzzled.
